Final Fantasy VI Drabbles
by Valkyrie Celes
Summary: A FFVI drabble series with both cannon and uncannon situations/themes. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Freedom

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a bird?"

Celes cocked her head curiously at the statement.

"No, do you?"

"They're so free. I'd imagine you would wonder what they'd be like."

"Why would you imagine that?"

"A woman who looks as lonely as you do all the time must wonder how liberating it is to be as free as a bird."

She flinched and drew back. It stung her: More than she realized it would. He took no notice and carried on.

"We could go somewhere far away, you know. Somewhere you could be free as a bird."

"Oh?"

He step towards her slowly, purposefully. She didn't withdraw. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered all too temptingly.

"Just say the word, and I'll take you wherever you wish to go. Just say the word, and you'll be free from all of this. The Empire, the Returners; you'll be free as a bird."

She didn't realize she had leaned closer with every word he spoke. She turned her head to reply in kind, not having to think twice.

"Yes."

His reply was not in words, but in the churning of an engine, and the ascent of an airship.

I:I:I:I:I:I:

A/N: I don't know what this even is: I just want to get back into writing, and decided to…write. Didn't turn out the way I had planned, but once I started writing it just sort of flowed out onto the page haha. Basically what this will be if I continue it is some uncannon explorations into character relationships, pairings etc. I'm going to try and keep the characters as in character as possible (though that may not always be the case), but the uncannon-ness will lie in the situations they are placed in. But once again idk if I will continue this! I'll stop rambling now, though. I hope you all enjoyed and please review! If only for the fact that FF6 stories need more love on here


	2. Comeradory

Comradery

The stars danced in the night sky, ignoring every worry, ignoring every care. Stress was a manmade pain that they scoffed upon with vigor. Fear was trivial, stress was fruitless; all that mattered to the stars was the dance. A scarce few adopted this mindset, for stress was all that kept some going. But tonight, a duo was one with the stars as they danced with them underneath the moonlight. They giggled as children would as their bare feet flittered across the wet grass. They twirled, they dipped, they spun until they fell in a mess of limbs and giggles and chose to merely gaze up at the stars they so passionately emulated.

"Celes?" one said after a time.

"Yes Terra?"

"Do…do you think we'll win?" she replied meekly.

Her companion thought for a long while before replying.

"Yes, we will."

The green haired woman brightened and smiled at the pale haired one, grasping her in a tight embrace. The Queen of ice squeezed the half-espers arm warmly before motioning for her to stand.

"But let's forget about all of that for tonight," the Ex-General said. "For tonight, let's just dance like we always do. Cares are so difficult to lose in these times, and I should like to lose ours for a bit longer before we return."

Her companion nodded in agreement. Taking Celes' hand, she began to dance under the starlight once more.

Red and white, light and dark, and fire and ice spun until they truly became one.

And on that night, they were the brightest star in the sky.


	3. Real Me

Real Me

Figaro was quiet at night. Too quiet. So quiet that the lack of city noise made it impossible for her to sleep. She was used to the loud noise of machines puffing smoke nearly every hour of every day: of the clashing of blades on the sparring ground, of the shouts of her comrades whilst they sparred…of the jovial laughter that floated from the recesses of the mess hall…and it was at that moment, that she realized she was home sick. How ironic, she thought. The one place she barely escaped with her life, she yearned to return to with a desire she thought was not possible for her to feel.

Her musings were too much for her to bear any longer and she rose from her bed, dawned the robe provided to her and ventured to explore the desert kingdom. There was not much of interest: Beautifully decorated halls, paintings of former monarchs, the sounds of an engine room. Not much to no—The sounds of an engine room? She thought. She traced her steps back to the noise and followed it down a flight of stairs. Down those stairs was a door: the door in which the noises were coming from. Without another thought she pushed the door open.

The room was filled with noise, beautiful noise to her ears. The sounds of steam working through gears, of cogs turning pieces of machinery. All of the sounds she had sorely missed from her home. She wasn't expecting to find this treasure here: But she also wasn't expecting, to find the King of Figaro sitting at a table near the engine, alone. Shocked, she couldn't help speaking to him.

"Edgar?" she called softly, but her voice carried throughout the resonance of the nearly empty room.

He turned his head and smiled that boyish smile she had learned to expect from him.

"Ah milady, would you please sit down? I didn't realize I'd have such lovely company tonight, otherwise I would have prepared some wines," he joked.

She sighed exasperatedly and sat next to him.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Yes, I suppose I should. But shouldn't you be asleep, as well?"

Her face flushed.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," he said warmly. "I was joking. But I am curious: what are you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep"

"Ah, I see."

Silence, silence, silence…

"I missed home," she finally said. "It's so quiet here and I remember Vector being so active and loud even at night and I just…needed some noise. It's silly."

"If it matters to you it's never silly, milady."

"I…"

He looked at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen him dawn. She took in a breath sharply, and stared into his crystalline eyes, captivated.

"It doesn't matter what they did to you, or what you did for them. If you have fond memories of Vector, of growing up there, of the noises of the people, of the city that make you feel welcome and safe, then that's fine. There is nothing wrong with missing a home in which you spent your entire life. Why do you think I'm down here so late, after all?" he quirked a smile that reached his eyes, which in turn, made her smile.

"Thank you," she said, her voice husked with unshed tears. "I just, I…"

She choked on her words while a sob threatened to escape her. Noticing this, he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

It eased her grief. For once, she gave into her weaknesses and basked in the comfort he offered her.

The two held hands for the rest of the night in silence.


	4. Rage

Rage

Blood tainted his blade with an acrid air. It smelt like death all around him: the bodies that littered the ground were a testament to the carnage he had wrought. More soldiers kept on coming, and so, more littered the grounds with their corpses. His conscience rebelled at his actions, but his heart pulsed with the unforgiving rage of ferocity. Shouts echoed through the night. Telling him to stop, pleading with him to have mercy.

The warrior paused, staring into the eyes of the man who had so vigorously pled for his life, and he nearly spared it.

Until he saw the faces of his wife and child, lying lifeless in their chambers.

He ran his blade straight through his victim's chest, and reveled in the splash of blood that spilt across his weapons.


	5. Lost

Lost

Darkness as far as the eye could see. It was so hard to move, so hard to breathe. His body simply wanted to shut down and rest, perhaps for an eternity. Aches and pains that he thought unable to feel any longer resurfaced as he merely lay there, unconscious. It was so easy to give in to the grief, give into the pain.

The horrors he had wrought flashed before his eyes. So much blood filled his vision, the smell consuming his nostrils. Whether it was his, or another's he could no longer tell: he had smelt the blood of others so frequently, the blood he had so readily spilt from the bodies of the innocent, that the line between his and theirs was indistinguishable.

He tasted the iron on his tongue: though to his hazy mind, it only tasted as guilt. The guilt of leaving his comrades behind, his former life…his family. He was ready to die.

Footsteps echoed off the walls of…wherever he was. A cave, maybe? He was too weary to sit up and look at who approached him, but his ears picked up the steady pace of the delicate steps heading towards him. Would he…survive?

His breath hitched in his throat: what was this feeling swelling in his chest. Did he sustain another wound? Was it fatal? It certainly felt like nothing he had experienced before. He no longer felt hollow, his strength was returning to him at a dull hum. Slowly, but surely, he opened his eyes to see the figure peering down at him. Whether it was male or female, he didn't know. All he knew, was he was saved.

"It's alright," the person cooed. "We'll get you to town Shadow. You're safe now."

He felt his body be picked up by a bulk of raw muscle. Once again, his voice hitched.

He knew what he was feeling: it was so alien to him now. So new, and yet so familiar. He hadn't dared to think that such a sensation would grace him again. Could it be? He decided to ponder no longer and merely bask in the glow that now encompassed his entire being.

For once, the wayward soul let himself hope.

And it felt wonderful.


	6. Paint

Paint

The brush softly glided across the canvas. This was her stage, she was the star, and she was going to make a masterpiece. Her art would be critically acclaimed by the time she was of age, she knew it! Her heart raced with the adrenalin that creations often gave an artist. It was nearly complete, just one or two more strokes…

"Done!" she cried. "It's perfect!"

She spun around her room and giggled, not caring that her still wet brush splattered globs of color all over her walls and smock. Her celebration was short lived, however, as footsteps slowly meandered up the staircase that led to her room. The door creaked open, and a head of white poked in with a glower.

"Relm! How many times do I have to tell you to go to sleep?" her elder stepped into the room and looked around at the "art" that stained the walls. "What have you done, look at this mess!"

"Grandpa!" the girl bounded towards the man. "I finished it, finally!"

Her mood could not be deterred by his eventual scolding. She took her Grandfather's hand and pulled him towards her workshop.

"It took me some time to figure out what shade of green I needed: All of my shades were too harsh, or too light. So I mixed them together and got the perfect shade I needed and finally completed it!"

The old man stood before a portrait of a grove. The trees looked as if you could smell them, the grass as if you were standing upon it. And in the middle of that grove, was a chocobo with feathers as bright as gold. Its eyes were filled with a playful air, and it looked as though it was sitting there, simply waiting for the spectator to ride it. The man was aghast: his Granddaughter had made this?

"Relm…"

"Yeah?"

"This is beautiful!" the man cried. He hugged the little girl warmly. "I'm going to show this to the Mayor first thing in the morning."

"R-really!? Grandpa I—"

His eyes went from joy, to disciplinary.

"But never be up this late again! And clean up this mess at once!" he shouted.

Without another word, the elderly man stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The girl sighed.

"Oh, why me!"

I:I:I:I:I:I:

A/N: Eh, not my favorite, but just wanted to get another one out since it's been awhile. Not used to writing these two, so I hope I did them justice!


	7. Pyre

Pyre

Flames. White hot, infernos of blistering pain engulfed grafts of skin. Eating, piercing, crackling all over your arms and legs. Eating you alive, drinking in the scent of your flesh slowly being eaten away by its fury.

Make it stop! I'll do anything to make it stop! Your mind cries. The embers do not yield, only intensifying as they jump back and forth, back and forth dancing mockingly across your entire being.

You heave and convulse as you roll furiously, trying to dull the pain. Begging yourself to somehow make the flames stop cracking your skin, but to no avail.

Your screams finally stop as you lay on the ground, nothing more than a husk of burnt, unrecognizable flesh.

The rage finally dissipates, ebbing away to nothing more but smoke.

And their mistress stares upon your lifeless corpse. Her eyes, just as lifeless.

She marches on.


	8. Cards

Cards

"May I help you with something?"

The gambler quirked an eyebrow as the target approached him. He could tell: she was weary. Of either him, or her surroundings, he did not know. What he did know, however, is that she wasn't going to distract him from his game of cards.

"Um, I…" she looked down at her twittling fingers. "I…was wondering if…"

"If…? I don't have all day you know."

"Uh, er," a blush crept along her cheeks. "May I…play a game with you?"

His countenance immediately shifted to that of a quizzitive one.

"A…game? Why what do you mean, my dear?"

"You know, a game with," she motioned her hands to the cards that were idly being shuffled in his hands. "Those. A…card game? Maybe go fish, or—"

He interrupted the girl with a barked laugh. She backed away, the blooming blush taking full effect on her cheeks.

"S-sorry! I didn't mean—"

The gambler put a hand on her shoulder. She instantly relaxed.

"Of course my dear. Why don't we go below deck and I can show you a game or two? There are far better games to play than go fish, take my word for it."

The girl chuckled gleefully.

"Like what?"

"Have you ever heard of poker?"

"No, is it fun?"

A wicked glint gleamed in his eye.

"Very, very fun my dear. I've got a lot to show you tonight."


	9. Impulse

Impulse

"Where are we going again Locke?"

"Stop asking! I'll let you know when we get there."

"But by the time we get there, I'll know where we are. I won't have to ask you where we're going if I know where we are."

"Well…it's a surprise. Can't you just be patient for a change?"

"Hmm…"

A sigh.

"If you stop asking I'll buy you whatever you want when we get back into town."

Her eyes gleamed.

"Deal."

The traveling companions stopped on a hillside after a few more hours of hiking. The female half of the pair stumbled on some rocks, but the more travel worn of the two was nimble, with swift reflexes and caught her by the waist before she could go tumbling down. The woman breathed heavily, looking up at the man with glistening eyes.

"A-are we there?" she stammered, nerves wracking her body. "I-I don't know if I can go any further."

He smiled warmly.

"We're here. Look. This is what I wanted you to see."

She peered out over the horizon and couldn't believe her eyes. Was it a rainbow? No, it couldn't be, it hadn't rained in quite some time. In fact, they were experiencing a drought in her hometown. The sun was still high up in the sky, so it couldn't be a sunset…but still, the rainbow prism above her kept her attention as well as any sunset could have ever possibly done. The lights danced and shimmered in the sky as if they were playing a game with one another. They sparkled and spun like nothing she had ever seen. It was…breathtaking.

The man chuckled as he watched the myriad of reactions play across her face. He held her closer, squeezing her arm to grab her attention.

"Hmm?" she responded.

"Like it?" he asked with the hint of a smile.

"It's…beautiful. What is it?"

"They call them the northern lights. They only pop up in Narshe a few times a year."

"So we did all of that hiking…for this?"

"Yeah."

She turned to wrap her arms around him in a warm embrace.

"Thank you Locke. It was worth the climb."

"I know love. You're always worth the climb"

She giggled.

"You're the only one that can get away with saying something so cheesy."

"And you love me for it."

"I do."

He closed the distance between them to capture her lips in a kiss. As if in joy, the lights brightened the sky, illuminating the pair.


	10. Kiss

Kiss

Celes stood on the deck of the Blackjak, her hair blowing haphazardly in the wind. She looked up at the foreboding airborne continent, an indistinguishable expression on her face. It was then, that he approached.

"Something on your mind?" he asked nonchalantly.

"This may be the end. The Triad is on that continent, yes?"

"Believe so."

"Who knows what will happen up there. Some of us may not come back."

"You will. I am almost certain of that, milady."

"Still….I'd like to do something before I go up there. Just in case I don't."

"Oh? And that would be?"

She turned to face him.

"This."

With a swiftness that was learned in her years as one of the Empire's best Generals, she leaned into her companion and kissed him on the lips. He had no time to react, as he was too in shock by the woman's out of character actions. She pulled away, just as he was about to respond.

"Er, I…"

"Stunned you speechless for once, didn't I?" she smirked.

"Uh, yes. What was—"

"I just didn't want to die without having kissed a man, that's all," she replied as if it was nothing. "Thank you. I'm going to get ready for battle, now."

Without another word she went to the lower decks of the airship. The man stood there, baffled into speechlessness. He traced his lips with his finger, then smiled.

"Pretty good kisser, for a first timer."


	11. Sneaky

Sneaky

Mog wandered around the airship - his furry bare feet making little to no sound on the wooden planks. His eyes darted around the dark corridor, looking for any intruders. When he knew the coast was clear, he continued onward.

He reached his destination and squeaked approvingly. Using his wings to flutter onto the table, he plopped himself before his prize.

"Kupopopo!" he cooed excitedly. "It's still here. I can get some before—"

"Before what? Before someone stops you from eating that whole cake by yourself?"

The moogle looked down from his vantage point and frowned.

"Relm? But I was so stealthy! How did you find out?"

"I was awake painting," as if to prove her point, she pointed a dirty brush at the guilty party. "And you shouldn't be eating late at night, anyway! That's what Grandpa always says. It'll give you heartburn!"

Mog weighed his options. He could either eat the entire dessert right in front of the girl, and get blamed for it tomorrow morning or…his eyes gleamed. He took a paw-full of cake and held it out to the girl.

"Split it kupo?"

Relm looked from the cake, to Mog, her gaze lingering a bit longer on the confectionary. Without another word, she pulled a chair up to the table and split the dessert between the two of them.

"Split it. It'll be our little secret, ok?"

Mog downed his half in two unceremonious gulps. He looked at the artist, his mouth caked with frosting and crumbs, then replied cheerily.

"Between the two of us, definitely kupo!"

I:I:I:I:I:I:I:

"Get up Relm! Rise and shine!"

"Ugh, let me sleep a bit longer Grandpa…"

"Is that anyway for a hero to talk? Wake up or you'll miss our next adventure!"

Groggily, the girl dragged herself out of bed. She rubbed her eyes, then her stomach wearily.

"OK Grandpa. I'll be right out."

Her elder left the room to let her get ready for the day. Relm got dressed, then entered the hallway. She saw Mog passing by atop his sasquatch companion. As he passed, the moogle winked at her cheekily. She smiled and winked back.

"I guess secrets are fun to have every once in a while," she mused.

She walked down the hall, joining the others as they prepared for the day.


	12. Falling

Falling

Her world was falling apart literally as the ship creaked and cried, slowly breaking apart inch by inch. She knew the fall was inevitable and braced herself for impact – but it came sooner than she expected, as the ship snapped in two instead of following it's slow descent to destruction.

All of her calm poise deserted her in that instant: panicked, she grabbed onto one of the splinting planks that were still somewhat intact. Her hands blistered and bled, but she didn't care: her survival instinct had kicked in, and she was going to hang on for dear life. Unfortunately, her survival instinct was not enough to quell the destruction of the flying vessel – her life line eventually broke – and she began to plummet to the ground.

She closed her eyes and waited for the impact to come.

It didn't. Not just yet. She felt a warm hand grab onto her wrist. Her eyes snapped to attention at her savior. They went from shocked, to content as she peered into his determined gaze – and it was then that she realized.

Dying wasn't so bad if she could see him one last time.

The remaining half of the airship burst into flames, and they were separated. As she fell, she saw only those determined eyes peering down at her.

And then, her world faded to black.


End file.
